


(breathe) like you're running out of time

by TheFandomEater



Series: Hamilton High School AU [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Asthma, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, alexander needs to take care of himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5408003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFandomEater/pseuds/TheFandomEater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was one thing Alexander wished he had known about New York, it was how goddamn cold the winters got.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(breathe) like you're running out of time

If there was one thing Alexander wished he had known about New York, it was how goddamn cold the winters got. In Puerto Rico it rarely dropped below 60°, but now he was lucky to brave the journey to school without feeling the chill of 40 or lower.

Breathing in the crisp morning air on his walk, Alex realized why his doctor back home had warned him about cold weather with his weak lungs; each breath sent ice stabbing through his throat and tightened the the chain around his chest. He paused outside the school doors, wheezing, and thanked any deity listening that none of his new friends got to school as early as him. In fact, he was completely alone as he took out his inhaler and took a puff of the medicine, holding it in as long as his lungs would allow before exhaling sharply with a cough. He repeated this once more before entering the school, trying to ignore the lingering tightness in his chest; Alexander Hamilton would not miss a second of school in the states, even if that meant ignoring his worsening ailment.

Mulligan was the first of his friends to arrive, and the muscled teen greeted him, saying that he’d checked at John’s house and the younger man would be coming in late today, “As if that’s out of the ordinary,” he added with a grin which Alex returned. “So, I see you still haven’t learned the futility of coming to school an _hour_ early?” he chastised.

Alex’s face heated as he replied, “I see you haven’t learned to value you education.”

The pair made eye-contact for a moment before bursting out in laughter. Alex cut his laugh short, feeling a familiar itch in his throat.

Lafayette was one of the first off the buses. Ever observant in a way none in the group could quite understand (Mulligan had taken to calling it their ‘french sense’, to which, when first confronted with the term, they haughtily replied “The only sense the French have over Americans is common sense.”), they picked up on the slight wheeze in Alex’s breath as soon as they walked up to him.

“Alexander, are you alright?” Their use of their friend’s full name, as opposed to one of their many french nicknames that never ceased to make Alex blush, demonstrated their obvious concern and had Mulligan looking at him with worry in his eyes as well.

Alex brushed it off, “I’m fine; how are you doing _mon ami_? I heard French Club is starting back up again.” he masterfully deflected, knowing how passionately Laf despised the French Club’s president, Louis Capet; sure enough, they launched into a half-english, half-french rant, with the phrase “baguette fucker” thrown in more than once, and concerns over Alex’s health were thrown to the winds. The first bell rang before John arrived, and the group split off to their respective classes. As was the norm by now, he showed up to school halfway through third-period English, an imprint of the textbook he had stayed up studying red on his face.

“Laurens! How did your day of rest and relaxation go?” Alex asked jovially, punctuated by a cough. John glared at him as, after handing a note to the teacher, he sat in his seat. His gaze shifted from mock anger to concern as Alex’s cough continued, getting rougher as it went on.

“Alex?” he asked, drawing the attention of any who weren’t already watching the coughing fit. Alex tried to assure everyone that he was fine, but found to some alarm that he couldn’t stop coughing long enough to do anything but wheeze. Real fear shone in his eyes and he gestured frantically at his throat; John understood and called to the teacher, “Mr. Washington, Alex can’t breathe!”

Up immediately, the typically stoic man took one look at his wheezing student and his classmates huddled around him before dialing 9-1-1; as he waited for the line to pick up he shouted to his class, “Someone get the nurse, and someone try and keep Alex calm; the rest of you, give him spa—Yes, I have a medical emergency; one of my students…” he went on to give a summary of events, surprisingly calmly considering his foster son of three months was struggling to breathe feet away from him.

Through instantaneous and unanimous silent voting, John was chosen as the person to keep Alex calm, and he found it frightening how their positions had reversed; now it was he who talked as if there wasn’t enough time for his words to fit. He switched from English to Spanish in order to give Alex something more familiar to cling to aside from John’s hand held shakily in his own.

Seconds before the ambulance was to arrive, the nurse came in, an emergency inhaler in hand. She lightly pushed John away from his bluing charge, but let him continue whispering Spanish nonsense as she tried to coach Alex’s breathing long enough that he could actually absorb some of the inhaler’s medicine into his overworked lungs. Dimly, John realized that the inhaler was probably Alex’s, who probably was having an asthma attack, but as his friend was lifted onto a gurney and pushed out the hallway toward an ambulance, he didn’t dwell on it.

He tore his eyes away from Alex’s prone form exiting the room long enough to see his teacher packing his work bag. “Are you driving behind the ambulance? Will you take me with?” He asked in a rush. Though good judgement and proper procedure told him not to, Mr. Washington allowed John to come with, on the condition that he called his parents on their way there to let them know where he was if not in school.

Maybe it was because he knew no one else had the opportunity to visit Alexander, or maybe it was because of the Laurens boy’s puppy-dog pout, but either way they arrived at the hospital right as the ambulance pulled into the emergency entrance. As they walked to the doors, Washington noticed John shaking and went to give his hand a comforting squeeze, but the boy held it with a vice-like grip and refused to acknowledge their handholding, yet also refused to let go.

Once they were seated in the waiting room, he finally let the older man’s hand go in order to text Mulligan and Lafayette; when he checked his phone he had 30 new messages from the two.

**JLaurens:** Alex is in the hospital right now; im waiting there w/Mr.Washington

**Herc the Jerk:** Is he ok? do you know anything?

**JLaurens:** Right now were not allowed to see him but when he was in class he couldn’t breathe. It was terrifying

**Lafayette:** I am sure he will be fine

**Herc the Jerk:** He better be

Three-and-a-half cups of shitty hospital coffee later, the doctor came out and said Alex could see visitors. She explained to Mr. Washington that Alex had had a severe asthma attack, to which he nodded in understanding, but which set John on edge knowing that his brief realization was right; not only that, but that _Alex has asthma… and he didn’t tell me?_ She went on, saying that it was most likely the cold weather that had acted as a catalyst, and that he’d most likely been feeling its effects on his breathing since shortly after stepping out of it _(Lafayette had mentioned Alex sounding sick that morning)_. As soon as the doctor finished, the pair walked into the hospital room.

Alex was pale, and while his breathing was deep and even, it was being aided by the cannula in his nose. “John!” he croaked out, and the aforementioned ran across the room to give him a bear of a side-hug.

“Don’t scare me like that ever again.” He sighed into Alex’s shoulder.

“No promises.” Alex said cheekily, earning a half-hearted elbow in the ribs. By then, Washington had walked over to the pair, and he looked at his ward with a mix of good humour and serious concern.

“Alexander, why didn’t you ask me to take you home if your breathing was this bad? I could have set up the nebulizer and—”

“I didn’t,” a light cough, “didn’t wanna miss any school. I’m already so behind.”

At that Washington had to laugh, “You’re weeks ahead on your work in every class: I think you can afford to skip a day instead of ending up in the emergency room.”

The severity of his situation sunk in, and he responded sheepishly, “Maybe I can.”

When he was oxygenated enough, the hospital sent him home chock-full of prescriptions for steroids and general asthma pieces, many of which (nebulizers, peak-flow devices, daily inhalers, etc) he already owned. As John and Mr. Washington waited for Alex to change, Washington realized that he didn’t know whether John would need a ride home, or if he would be coming home with them, and he said as much.

“Oh, actually sir,” one day he’d get the kid to stop calling him sir; this wasn’t a military base, “I was hoping I could stay with Alex, to make sure he’s alright and keep him company.” It was rare to see John as nervous as he was.

“And I’m assuming you want to stay the night?” he responded, trying not to grin, but as the boy eagerly nodded; he couldn’t help but smile. “Of course, John, as long as it’s okay with your moms. You’re always welcome at my house.” At this moment, Alex walked out, back in his normal clothes.

“John’s gonna stay with us? Sweet!” His excitement was evident despite his voice being a near whisper (the breathing tube he’d had in the ICU had roughed up his already weakened throat more than he’d like to admit) As the three walked out of the hospital, John noticed a red plastic bracelet around Alex’s wrist.

“What’s that?”

“That’s my medical alert bracelet; they decided that my asthma was severe enough now that it’s colder that I should wear one incase I have another big asthma attack.” His face reddened as he explained, clearly embarrassed at the attention focussed on his illness, and John took notice.

“I think it’s cool, man.” he reassured, and Alex openly preened the whole ride back to the house. As Mr. Washington pulled into his driveway, he saw what he believed to be Mulligan and Lafayette’s bikes leaning against the garage.

“Well,” he began warmly, “looks like we’ll be setting _three_ extra plates tonight.” Alex was confused until he, too, saw his friends’ bikes as he and John walked to the front door, side-by-side. He pulled out the key, which went to a lock that the Washingtons had rarely used before Alex came to stay; the first time he learned that they didn’t lock their doors during the day he’d had a meltdown, too used to a time where a deadbolt was the only thing to protect him and his ill mother from the neighborhood poachers who would have been all-too happy to clean out the house in an instant. Once inside, he was greeted by a hastily made “Welcome Home, Alex!” sign (he could recognize Mulligan’s blocky handwriting anywhere).

“Honey, we’re home!” John called out, and the resulting crash and ‘oh shit’ from the kitchen was enough to get even Good George Washington laughing; Alex immediately regretted joining in as the laughter scraped at his throat. His laughs turned to (healthy) wheezes as Mulligan and Lafayette walked out of the kitchen, presenting a lumpy yet evenly-frosted cake as if it were the crown jewels.

“Stop, stop!” He cried while laughing, “You’re gonna make me hack up a lung!” Despite his clearly joking tone, the fanfare ceased as all present were reminded of his attack only hours before.

Mr. Washington got them back on track, “Alright kids, let’s make our way over to the dining room and dig in.” Lafayette, eager to please the man, took the cake plate in their hands and practically skipped on their way to the dining room table.

“Monsieur Washington, shall I set the table?”

“Nothing quite so fancy, _Monsieur Lafayette_.” All the teens laughed; Lafayette because of Washington's exaggerated French accent, and their friends because of their obvious hero-worship. Everyone settled in chairs at the table and paper-plates with cake were handed out.

“So, Alex,” Mulligan began after swallowing a mouthful of cake, “John filled us in on what happened, but why didn’t you tell us you were feeling bad today?”

Before Alex could reply, Laf chimed in, “Oui, mon ami; I had asked if you were alright and you’d said nothing.” He had the decency to look abashed under their justified questioning. The real answer was he didn’t know why he hadn’t said anything. All his petty excuses of not wanting to miss school, not wanting them to worry, not wanting to feel weak—all of them fell away when he was faced with the reality that he had knowingly put himself in a life-threatening situation.

“I...I was just being stupid, I dunno. It won’t happen again.” His friends could tell he was being genuine, as it was very rare that Alex would admit to not knowing something. To lighten the conversation, he posed a question that had been eating at him, “So, which one of you baked the cake?”

“That would be moi,” Lafayette preened, to the surprise of none.

Equally underwhelming was Mulligan’s proud admission of: “And I frosted it.”

“I think you both did a wonderful job,” Washington cut in, “but you’d better hurry and clean the kitchen before Martha gets home.”

The pair of chefs made eye contact before crashing into the kitchen, cries of “Mon dieu!” and “Oh fu—frick! Sorry Mr. Washington!” ringing through the house.

 

**Author's Note:**

> look at me actually doing something! i am a busy lil student and im doin a lot of stressful stuff at the moment but ill probably write more for this series, either more chapters or separate fics in the same universe  
> Edit: The sequel is in progress! It's just... a lot longer than anticipated, but I want to finish it before I post anything (i'll hopefully have it finished and the first chapter posted around the 25th, it would be earlier but im not gonna have internet access for a week or so)  
> Stay tuned, and thank you for the lovely comments!


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